


Raise You Up

by Citizen_Draiochta



Series: The Wind Beneath Our Wings [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sans, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sans Has Issues, Sans-centric, Wings, all monsters have wings, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citizen_Draiochta/pseuds/Citizen_Draiochta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans suffers from a bad day as the depression from the Underground catches up with him. It's not quite a Bad Day, but it's bad enough to make him reminisce and think deeply on his lost wings. Frisk teaches him that he doesn't have to go through it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise You Up

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a promised one-shot that looks deeper into Sans' wings and how he copes without them. Sometimes he doesn't cope. At least, not very well.

It had been one of Sans’ worse days. It wasn’t quite a Bad Day, but it was bad enough that he had ignored his friends’ texts until noon, and gotten out of bed at one to bring Frisk home from school. He didn’t know what had set it off. He had woken up that morning to the sound of Papyrus’ cheerful shouting and dragged himself downstairs. Immediately he had known something was off about himself. The apathy that had dragged at his feet and weighed down his shoulders in the Underground had begun to creep back in. He could barely bring himself to eat, forcing food into his body in order to keep Papyrus from worrying and slipping on his easygoing mask.

After the taller skeleton brother had left for work, Sans had pulled himself back up the stairs and into his bed, curling up on the mattress and trying to force himself asleep. He had tossed and turned in vain for nearly three hours as his phone buzzed next to him occasionally on his nightstand. When a steady stream of buzzing began, he signed and turned over to grab the phone, before curling up again. The screen was constantly lit up as messages flooded in. He squinted a bit in the darkness of his room (he had neglected to open the window and so light barely filtered in through the shutter cracks) and made out one detail that had cause him to groan loudly in frustration.

Every single message was a separate letter. Another look at the screen almost entirely erased that irritation. All the letters were from Frisk. He unlocked his phone and opened the messages. 

> **Frisk (12:03):** Sans? Mom says you’re not answering her texts. Undyne said the same and Papyrus assumed you were being lazy again. Alphys said that you didn’t reply to her post on Undernet and that she tagged you in it. 
> 
> **Frisk (12:05):** Hello? Sans?
> 
> **Frisk (12:08):** Are you  busy at the moment? Just tell me and then I’ll stop. Mom is getting worried and so is Alphys.
> 
> **Frisk (12:13):** Sans are you okay?
> 
> **Frisk (12:14):** Hey I have a joke. What did one sister cell say to the other sister cell when she stepped on her foot?
> 
> **Frisk (12:14):** Mi-to-sis!
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** S
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** A
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** N
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** S
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** P
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** L
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** E
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** A
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** S
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** E
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** A
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** N
> 
> **Frisk (12:19):** oh

Frisk must have seen that he read their messages. He sighed a little bit and waited as they typed.

> **Frisk (12:20):** Sans, are you okay? Lunch ends in fifteen minutes so I don’t have long but we’re worried about you.

What could he say? He didn’t want to bother Toriel or Alphys or Undyne or Asgore, and especially not Papyrus. He knew that Frisk would see through whatever lie he gave to them when he came to pick them up later. He almost cursed that child for their insight and their ability to see right through him. 

> **Sans (12:22):** ‘m alright kiddo. just slept in today. i’ll pick you up after school like usual, k? 
> 
> **Frisk (12:22):** Okay. Text mom and Alphys and Undyne. 
> 
> **Sans (12:22):** k
> 
> He rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. He wasn't really feeling  _ up _ to...well, getting up; he would have been quite content to lay there and wait for the apathy to pass. With great reluctance, he sent a quick message to everyone who had texted him and apologized for “sleeping in.” His phone buzzed again.
> 
> **Frisk (12:28):** Olive you.

The tiniest hint of a real smile made its way onto his face. 

> **Sans (12:29):** ❤️

It was half an hour later that he finally dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. As the hot water ran over his bones, he let his mind wander. It settled on the topic of resets. He gave a mental sigh, because of  _ course _ this would be what he decided to think about. He growled a little bit and shoved all his thoughts aside. With more force than was necessary, he shut off the water with his magic and used gravity to pull all of the water off of himself. He shrugged on his jacket and slipped into his standard outfit of shorts and a white tee shirt. He went through the usual motions of his “morning” routine, brushing his teeth and splashing icy cold water on his face to wake himself up, before trudging down the stairs. He had a good two hours before he had to be at Frisk’s school. Out of habit, he turned his feet towards Grillby’s. 

The fire monster had opened a restaurant on the surface, and had been instantly flooded with customers. All of his old regulars had been the first to arrive, but there had been a surprising amount of human customers as well. A definite crowd had settled in there, people who came at least twice a week and sat at the bar and chatted with each other. Grillby had been pleased. 

He had welcomed Sans in that day by placing a bottle of ketchup before him almost instantly, and sitting across from him. His niece had taken up work with him and her bright blue flame flickered as she bustled around the room, her wings glowing with energy and delight. 

“heya grillbz.”

“...hello.”

Sans sighed. He let the grin slip a little from his face. Grillby’s wings inched tentatively forward, towards him. He had set down the glass he was wiping and had folded his hands. Sans felt the mask slide away into a bitter grin. 

“...you are upset.”

“nah. i’m just tired.”

“Of?”

Damn the man understood him too well. He supposed it was because the fire monster had practically raised him after he and Papyrus had moved to Snowdin. He had never told Grillby about anything that bad bothered him, about the resets and the reason he had no wings, about his growing apathy and depression and the darkness that had overtaken his life, but the fire elemental had always somehow understood what to do. He had never told anybody about his wings. As far as almost everybody knew, he had wings that were covered by his jacket. To them, one day he’d decided to start wearing that jacket and hidden his wings away. Nobody had ever asked him why they never saw them. It simply wasn't polite, at least in monster culture. But that kid had been the first, and Sans had far from taken offense. It had been a breath of fresh air, having somebody ask. He hadn't known that he needed to tell somebody. 

A part of him filled with guilt at the thought of telling a mere child about his issues. Despite everything that Frisk had done, they were still barely twelve, even with their uncanny maturity. He thought he might ask them about that one day. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts when a flicker of fire tapped his shoulder. 

“Of?” Grillby repeated. 

“heh. not feeling.”

It was as close to a confirmation that he would get. Grillby sucked in a breath and his wings dimmed for a moment, before flaring up with brightness again. 

“...”

“you know why. haven’t you always known? heh heh heh...always knew exactly what to do for me when i was a baby bones.”

“...I suspected. It wasn't my place to ask.”

“yeah,” Sans said. 

He breathed out through closed teeth, the air whistling as it sped by bone. The two of them sat there in silence, father and surrogate son facing each other. Sans felt his mind drift again. 

It settled on the kid. He knew that Frisk had the ability to manipulate time. He remembered the feeling of the tiniest resets, something he later learned was a LOAD. The deja vu had been strong when he had found himself back at conversations he’d just finished. When he learned why they had loaded, he couldn't bring himself to be angry in any sense. The kid had  _ died _ , and that had been the only reason they had bothered to load a save. He admired them for that, for being so unwilling to try and change the outcomes. He admired them for their ability to face whatever mistakes they made and their determination to accept the consequences. It was something he rarely saw. 

But he knew that it was just one timeline. Flowey’s resets had created many, many timelines where Frisk had fallen down. He wondered what those timelines were like, how people changed. He wondered if in one timeline the endless loop of resets had continued. A very bitter grimace twisted his face for a brief instant. He imagined himself in those worlds, complete list of depression, uncaring about anything except for his brother. The image dipped in his mind and suddenly felt much more real. Pictures flashed through his head, scenes of dust and red scarves and blue tears. 

He felt himself choke on air and shook his head rapidly, automatically plastering on a smile. Damn his ability to warp timespace. Even though he could barely make a change, only alter a few seconds at most, bend a square meter of space at most, it came with the cost of seeing the entire fabric and all its possibilities. 

The worlds where he still had his wings hurt the most. 

He forcefully yanked himself out of his mind and stood, glancing over at the clock. Three thirty p.m. It was time to pick up Frisk. Had he really been lost in his thoughts for so long? Grillby had long since left the counter, heading to the kitchen where the smell of burgers sizzling on the grill wafted into the restaurant. He walked out of the restaurant and around the back. He supposed his ability to see the timespace fabric was useful. There was a tear just by the back parking lot. He felt his eye flash and everything went blue as the magic activated and he stepped through. Less than an instant later he was walking three blocks away from Frisk’s school. A turn into another alleyway and he was strolling through the gates. One good thing came out of the resets: they created holes in the fabric of timespace that he could use.

As he waited for Frisk, he felt himself slipping away into his thoughts again. They focused on his wings. Ah, his wings. He missed them almost beyond anything he had ever felt before, the strength of those feelings nearly rivaling his love for his brother. He could remember feeling them being torn off by vines as strong as steel…

There were times when he felt phantom wings behind him and he would instinctively move appendages that were no longer there. Those times were when he took off his jacket. Without the weight of it sitting comfortably on his shoulders, his mind would create something to fill that space. He wondered if he could ever get used to the feeling of having bare shoulders, covered only by a thin shirt. 

The worst was when he dreamed of his wings. He could flex them and move them and hold them open to hug his brother - but they disintegrated into dust the instant he touched them with trembling fingers.

A loud buzz shot through the air and brought him out of his thoughts once again. There was an almost instant hum of children chattering with each other as they flooded out the buildings in groups and pairs, excited for the weekend. He leaned against a post, watching for the familiar head of messy brown hair. There were stares and gawks as people filed past him. He gave them all his signature grin and winked at a girl who had stared with a rather interesting look on her face. She blushed and hurried off with her friends. When he spotted his small child walking out of the main building, hands clutching a small package, he had straightened up and given them a wave. They smiled brightly at the sight of him and quickened their pace.

“hey kid,” he said when they had stopped in front of him, slightly out of breath. “‘sup?”

Their smile turned slightly mischievous, resembling a half smirk, half smile. They gripped the package in one hand and used the other to remove his hand from his pocket. He quirked an eyebrow at them and they shook their head, still grinning.

“you gonna tell  _ anybody _ what’s in that package?”

They shook their head again and gripped his hand firmly, before setting off on the path home. Frisk had made it a rule that the two of them would walk home together, no shortcuts or other means of transportation allowed. He supposed it was their way of making sure he got some semblance of exercise. He was touched by the gesture, and indulged.

“so how was school today?” he asked.

“Good,” they chirped. “New project.”

“oh? is it science?”

They hummed a little in confirmation. He was content to follow them as they led the way home, hand in hand with him. He was surprised though, when they made a detour into an alleyway and turned to face him. He knew that they knew this was a shortcut area, so why had they brought him there?

“Talk,” they demanded.

He knew what they meant, but he still tried to avoid it anyway. It was a habit after so many years of keeping his problems to himself.

“talk? i gotta lotta things to say kiddo, but you wouldn’t want to hear me p- _ rattle _ on about them. they’re mostly bad puns but if that’s what you like i guess i’ll start. why don’t skeletons like the cold?”

They gave him a flat, unamused stare. He kept trying.

“because it cuts right through them,” he finished with a wink.

The stare turned slightly exasperated and fond, but they kept at it. He stared back. 

“Notifications are loud. Would have woken up,” they pointed out. “You didn’t sleep in.”

Sans sighed and stuffed his hand back into his pocket.

“‘s nothin’ to worry ‘bout frisk. just a bad day, y’know?”

“Not a Bad Day?” they asked, and he could hear the capitalized letters. 

“nah. just tired.”

_ Unfeeling. Depressed. A little hopeless too. _ But he didn’t say any of that. Frisk hesitated.

“Wings?”

They knew him too well. He supposed it was his fault for sharing that night, after they had arrived on the surface. He cursed himself for opening up. 

“nothing new,” he said lightheartedly. “it happens sometimes kiddo. don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Their expression softened. They stepped forward and gently, but firmly, embraced him, reaching their small arms around him. He could feel the package they were clutching press into his back. He returned the hug, pulling his hands out of his pockets to pat their back.

“heh. thanks frisk.”

They pulled back and tilted their head at him.

“It’s okay to have bad days,” they told him. “I understand. Not alone though. Don’t have them alone.”

He blinked, and felt his face soften into a genuine smile. The cloud of sadness, while still quite present, seemed to recede a little bit at their words. He put his hands back inside his pocket. The twelve year old tugged one back out insistently and took it in their hand.

“okay kid,” he replied.

“Promise,” they said.

“you know how i feel about promises.”

They squeezed his fingers and repeated themselves. He hesitated.

“frisk, you’re twelve. you mighta saved an entire race but you’re still a kid. you don’t have to worry about me.”

They snorted.

“Ambassador. It’s my job to,” they told him. “Promise. Not alone. You have me. Promise.”

He sighed.

“okay kiddo,” he said quietly. “i promise i’ll come to you when i have a bad day. i won’t go through it alone.”

They perked up immediately, a wide smile lighting up their face. 

“how’d you get so good at all this?” he asked.

“Dying does it,” they said. “I had my whole life to figure it out.”

The joke fell a little flat, but he grinned anyway. He turned his attention to the shortcut in front of them. Mentally he applauded their genius; the talk, despite being short, took time away from their walk. The shortcut would take them a block away from Toriel’s ensuring they arrived home on time. Such a clever child. Of course, they had to be in order to navigate the Underground and befriend every single monster. In some ways, they’d become a monster themselves. It was an honorary title that went unspoken that every single monster knew.

He gripped their hand tightly and lit his eye up with magic as he activated it and took them through. He felt better as he walked down the street with them. He wasn’t alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! I have a couple more short stories planned, and the idea of a longer story for this series growing in my mind! Keep an eye out for those. You can find fic updates on my tumblr mercy-or-genocide.tumblr.com and feel free to message me on there. Follow me for headcanons, moodboards, ficlets, and my own fanart.


End file.
